


It Started With A Mistake

by Zesty_Bill_Clinton



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Danatole, F/F, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, NSFW, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, War and Peace, after the duel, both are in love but won't admit it, slight nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:31:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zesty_Bill_Clinton/pseuds/Zesty_Bill_Clinton
Summary: Dolokhov's been in love with Anatole for years now but Anatole has never showed any sign of ever caring for him back, at least in the way he craves.  But after the duel Anatole's heart pangs at the thought of losing Dolokhov and he's flooded with confusion.  As he willfully ignores his conflicting emotions he pushes through to an elopement with Natasha and Dolokhov fears he's losing Anatole for good this time.(I suck at summaries sorry)





	It Started With A Mistake

Anatole shivered in the cold early morning air. How had he let Dolokhov do this? Him and Pierre stood poised to shoot. Dolokhov had a soldier’s air about him with the preying eye of a lynx. Before another word could be spoken by the duel’s audience a shot rang out.  
With Dolokhov’s aim Pierre would be- no wait. Anatole’s eyes had been trained on Pierre waiting for him to fall when he turned to see Fedya crumple to his knees. Anatole’s ears rang as another shot rang out towards Pierre. Doctors were at Fedya’s side and Anatole was ushered away by Hélène. She looked at him with questioning eyes. Anatole let himself fall into a regular façade and spoke lightly to her.  
“Well sweet sister.” He said and she smiled. “You certainly bring out the beast in men.” She laughed and so did he. Without remembering how he got there he was helping Pierre and bringing him home. The carriage ride was slow with Pierre moaning in pain every few moments while Anatole’s mind swam with confusion. Why was he so distraught? Dolokhov would be fine, just a flesh wound. But why did his heart sink so rapidly at the thought of him dying? Images, long forgotten images of hands in hands, lips on lips, lips everywhere flooded his senses. Shaking it off he thought of Natasha. Beautiful Natasha. That night with Dolokhov was a simple drunken mistake. A mistake.  
“Invite Natasha to the ball.” He said suddenly to Hélène. Natasha would be his before the next morning. So what if Dolokhov were hurt? What did he care?  
Finally, the carriage arrived at his sister’s home and he left the unhappy couple to tend to themselves. Arriving at home he loosened his tie and sat in his study with a bottle of wine with a notice not to disturb him. He let his mind imagine Natasha. What her manicured hands would feel like in his, her bright lips against his. He let out a soft groan. He genuinely loved women, their soft curves and gentle faces and bewitching nature. But suddenly the hands he imagined were rough and calloused, lips tender yet hungry, and looking up into his imagined lovers gaze he saw not Natasha’s bright gaze but the dark weathered eyes of a soldier, of Fedya Dolokhov. Anatole snapped out of his fantasy and shuddered violently. He was never a religious man, but there were certain lines even a debaucher like him wouldn’t cross. Desiring of all things, sodomy? for Christ’s sake! He ran his hands over his face and tried to shake the thoughts out of his mind. Natasha. Focus on Natasha.  
He prepared himself for the ball.

Dolokhov grimaced as the doctor tightened the bandages around his chest. Finally awake after nearly twenty-four hours of slipping in and out of consciousness Dolokhov found himself at home with only the doctor and his assistant as company. He still couldn’t believe he lost to the damned Bezukov but at least he was alive. The duel’s very premise was foolish, it wasn’t like Hélène and his relationship was anything but a façade. Some rumors were simply more appropriate than others and their engagements effectively masked their own taboo tendencies. Fedya had known since he was a youth that he preferred men. In the army, it had been far less uncommon. Months without women did things to certain young men and Fedya didn’t tend to ignore that fact. But in Moscow it was a much plainer existence. That didn’t stop the rumors of course, being unmarried as he was. Hélène and her preferences, well that’s her business.  
Dolokhov looked up when he heard a knock at the door.  
“Dolokhov!” Said Anatole through the door brightly. Dolokhov nodded to have the doctor let him in and he saw the man rush in looking as if he had just woken up, which was probably true.  
“I am in love Dolokhov. Madly, madly in love.” He smiled at the man and Dolokhov melted a little inside. There was a reason he hadn’t ventured to bed with many men since the war. He was in love with the complete idiot in front of him.  
“You’ve told me, Natalya Rostov, she was at the opera.” Dolokhov said. This wasn’t the first time he heard those words come out of Anatole’s mouth. By the end of the week he’d grow bored with the girl, like always.  
“Will you write a love letter for me?” He asked, his face still dreamy and vacant. That was the other thing. Dolokhov wrote all of Anatole’s love letters for him. Anatole first asked him after finding one of his old love letters in his study.  
“Won’t you tell me who she is?” Anatole moaned. Dolokhov ripped the letter from his hands.  
“No. Leave it alone” He glanced at the letter and felt a flush on his cheeks remembering writing it. He was so stupid for leaving it out.  
“You really have a way with words.” Anatole said. “She was a lucky woman.”  
“Well she’s gone now.” Dolokhov bit back. The sounds of cannons fired in his ears as he tried to shake off the memories of that day creeping back into his mind.  
“Would you write one for me?”  
Dolokhov’s heart clenched. Was this the moment he had been wishing for so long? What did this mean? How should he-  
“Because Lady Cassandra as you know is simply ravishing and I don’t believe I could do her justice.”  
Oh. That’s what he meant.  
Dolokhov ended up agreeing and it became standard for him to write Anatole’s letters to his fling of the week. What else was a good friend for?  
He spent the rest of the morning fiddling with ink writing about the ‘lovely’ Natasha. Anatole had given him a list of all her virtues that Dolokhov had to form into some semblance of a letter. Meanwhile Anatole had gone to Hélène’s.  
“Dearest sister” He said with all the pomp and circumstance that defined him. “Would you lend me 10,000 rubles?”  
“What for?” She said finally looking away from the ‘maid’ she had been engaged with before Anatole arrived.  
“I’m eloping with Natasha” Hélène rolled her eyes. “Have you spoken about it with Dolokhov yet?”  
“Don’t talk about him to me”  
“He won’t help you, will he?” Her eyes flicked to Anatole’s worried face. “Or is it something else?”  
“It wouldn’t be out of the realm of friendship to care deeply if that friend were near death, right?”  
“I wouldn’t say so, unless there were other things to make one think that way.” Anatole flushed and looked away.  
“Will you give me the money or not?”  
“Fine. Go see Pierre’s accountant in the east wing.”  
Anatole nodded and walked out. He glanced back for a second and saw Hélène press her lips to the girl’s and his already confused mind felt overwhelming. He realized he was gasping for breath and braced himself against a wall for a moment.  
If only that night hadn’t happened.  
It was not even a month ago. Anatole and Dolokhov had returned to Dolokhov’s house late at night once the club had closed. Their laughs merry as they fell through the house’s doorway Dolokhov had given him the strangest look. So predatory and lustful and Anatole hated it, but didn’t want him to stop. Then Dolokhov pressed his lips to Anatole’s. They were so warm and far tenderer than he would have imagined. Anatole reveled in that kiss. Feeling wanted instead of wanting. He pulled Dolokhov deeper into the kiss and before Anatole could stop himself they were in Dolokhov’s bedroom. Except Anatole isn’t completely sure he would have stopped if he could. Dolokhov’s fingers were calloused yet loving and soon Anatole was slipping out of his clothes. Dolokhov pressed a palm to Anatole’s crotch and a moan slipped from his lips involuntarily. Dolokhov smiled wickedly.  
“Anatole?”  
Pierre’s voice shook Anatole from his stupor.  
“Oh, hello Pierre!”  
“What are you doing here?”  
“I was just speaking to my sister.” He said attempting to skirt away from the interaction. Pierre just nodded and continued his way. 

Dolokhov was finally up and walking when Anatole returned to the man’s house.  
“Greetings” Dolokhov was sitting in his parlor with a glass of wine, the rest of the bottle not far from his grasp. In his other hand, he held the letter he had crafted. Anatole nodded nervously towards him and didn’t speak, which was unusual for Prince Kuragin.  
Internally Anatole felt a fierce debate raging. He was still smitten with Natasha that charming girl. Her neck, her bare shoulders, her feet. But in the corner of his heart he felt another love unlike anything he had felt. A love for Dolokhov of all people.  
Chose Natasha He told himself It’s so much easier.  
“I need to add something to that letter” His voice wavered slightly. “I’m asking Natasha to elope.”  
Dolokhov’s eyes widened and his throat clenched with all the things he wanted to say. To tell him not to, to tell him to stay, to confess his love. But it all stayed inside. It had to.  
“Do you have a plan?”  
“No… not really.” Anatole flushed, but this was the right choice. Think of Natasha. He told himself. “Will you help me, Fedya?”  
“Of Course,”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed and that you leave comments and kudos. Follow me @ pierre-bazooka on tumblr.com for more great comet content and fanfiction
> 
> Also there will be a second chapter to this (whether or not people ask for it lol)


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